


Anthony and the Ghost

by Blot_Squisher



Category: Smosh
Genre: Barber Shop Poll, Death Threats, Gen, Possessed Ian, Possession, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, scared Anthony, smosh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blot_Squisher/pseuds/Blot_Squisher
Summary: Ian gets possessed by a ghost and tries to kill his best friend.Rated (Explicit) for language and threats of rape/brutal violence.





	Anthony and the Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rework of my very first fanfiction. Sorry, any and all spelling/punctuation errors are mine as I don't have a beta reader for my fics. Please feel free to share your thoughts!
> 
> This is an entirely fictional story and I am in no way affiliated with or a representative of SMOSH or their associates.

Anthony sighed, looking around the small kitchen. It had been two weeks since he and Ian had filmed a video where they pretended to summon a ghost with a ouija board and Ian had been acting odd ever since. Most recently, he had taken everything out of the refrigerator and left it out overnight, spoiling most of it.

Storming down the hall to his friends bedroom, Anthony slammed the door open without knocking. "Dude, what the hell?"

Ian sat cross-legged on his bed, the ouija board in front of him and the planchet in one hand. Without looking up, he asked, "What do you want?"

"Why did you waste all our food? We just paid rent so how the hell are we supposed to get more groceries?"

Slowly looking up, Ian shrugged. "I don't know."

Huffing irritably, Anthony jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Well, put that stupid thing away and come help me clean up." Turning on his heel, he added, "You're lucky I'm helping you at all."

"You're lucky I don't slit your throat while you're sleeping and fuck the hole," Ian hissed, his voice sounding strangely deep.

"Dude, what?" Anthony snapped. Turning, he couldn't help but jump back slightly. Ian was standing directly behind him, a creepy smile plastered on his face.

Backing slowly into the hall as his friend continued to invade his personal space, Anthony only stopped when his back hit the wall.

There was a manical light in Ian's eyes as he whispered, "I said, you're lucky I don't open your goddamn throat like a fish and stick my dick in it. Now, do I need to demonstrate?"

Shaking his head quickly, Anthony stammered, "N-no. A-are you f-feeling okay?"

Standing on his toes, Ian leaned in so close their lips were almost touching. Smiling slyly, he whispered, "I'm good, Anthony. How are you?"

"Um, I don't- I'm- aah," he mumbled, blushing furiously. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Deciding what to do with you," Ian hissed.

Anthony realized he'd been holding his breath when Ian took a step back.

Leading the way to the kitchen, Ian asked in a strangely cheerful tone, "Come on man, you don't think I'd ever actually hurt you, do you?"

Thinking back on the past few days, Anthony found that he really wasn't sure. Ian had been getting ruffer during their sketches, even going to far as to break one of their dining table chairs.

Shaking his head again, he decided to keep it to himself for the time being. "Let's just get this place cleaned up. We can talk about it later."

====Later that night===

Anthony woke suddenly, blinking quickly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. Rolling over to check the time on his phone, he let out a startled shout.

Ian was standing by the edge of his bed, a large knife in one hand. "Oh, you're awake."

"Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing?" Anthony demanded, his heart still racing.

"What do you think your blood would look like splattered across the carpet?" Cocking his head to one side, Ian laughed quietly before turning and leaving the room.

Anthony waited until he heard his roommates door close to get up and shut his own. After a moments thought, he jammed a chair under the door knob, intent on stopping any more unwanted intrusions.

Laying down again, he stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

"Maybe we really did summon something," he thought to himself. Sighing, he dismissed the idea. That was stupid. Ghosts weren't real.

Anthony had just started to doze off when movement at the foot of his bed caught his eye. Lifting his head, he felt his blood freeze. Ian was crouched by his feet, head cocked to one side.

Before Anthony could ask what the hell his roommate was thinking, Ian lunged at him, causing him to shriek loudly.

Ian jumped on top of him and clamped a hand down over his mouth, silencing him. Leaning down so their noses were almost touching, he snickered. "Shh, you don't want to wake the dead now."

Anthony pried at the hand covering his mouth, but Ian seemed to have gained some kind of inhuman strength.

Grabbing Anthony's wrists with his free hand, Ian pinned them above his head. "Here's how this is going to work," he said, chuckling slightly. "Keep me entertained and I won't have to hurt anyone."

Starting to get mad, Anthony bucked his hips, trying to throw Ian off.

His smile becoming an irritated frown, Ian tightened his legs around Anthony's waist, pinning him securely to the bed. "What did I tell you?"

Releasing his wrists, Ian reached back and pulled out a large kitchen knife. Waving it front of Anthony's face, he sneered, "Looks like I'm going to find out what your blood looks like splattered across the carpet after all."

With a muffled scream, Anthony put all his strength into a hard punch, catching Ian straight in the nose.

Reeling back in pain, Ian released him, hands flying to his now bleeding face.

Shoving his roommate as hard as he could, Anthony leapt out of bed, tripping as the sheets caught around his legs and landing hard on his stomach.

"Dude! What the frick?"

Casting a terrified glance over his shoulder, Anthony saw Ian rolling on the bed, hands still covering his face.

"Why am I bleeding?" Ian shouted. "Why am I in your room?"

Scrambling backwards as Ian stood, Anthony kept a nervous eye on him as he demanded, "You tell me! You were just threatening me with a knife, you psycho!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ian yelled, blood starting to drip between his fingers. "Fuck, I think you broke my nose."

Anthony got shakily to his feet, still worried that his best friend would turn on him again at any moment. "Don't you dare try to make me think you don't know what you were doing. You've been acting like an asshole for the past two weeks, but this is taking things way to far."

"Two weeks?" Ian whined, stumbling to the bathroom. "What do you mean, two weeks?"

Rolling his eyes, Anthony huffed sarcasticly, "As in, the last fourteen days. What the hell is wrong with you? If this is some kind of prank it's gone way, way too far."

Shaking his head, Ian carefully checked his face in the mirror, blood dripping onto the counter. "I think I need to go to the hospital, that's what's wrong with me."

"Well, have fun with that," Anthony snapped, still mad at his friends actions.

"Dude, can you drive me to the hospital, please?" Ian asked, pressing wadded up toilet paper gently against his nose.

"No, drive yourself. With the way you've been acting, you'd probably try and kill us both as soon as we got on the highway. Just call an ambulance or something."

Confusion and hurt clouding his face, Ian asked, "Why are you so pissed? You broke my nose! And I can't afford an ambulance bill on top of whatever this is going to cost!"

"So drive yourself!" Anthony shouted, slamming his bedroom door.

After several minutes, there was a quiet knock on his door. "Anthony? Can we talk, please?"

Ignoring him, Anthony pulled up YouTube and started blasting music until he heard the front door slam. As the early morning hours slowly ticked by, he found himself reading comments on their latest video. One comment chain had several people discussing the special effects used when the spirit possesed Ian.

Frowning, Anthony watched the video himself, unable to recall adding anything of the sort. To his surprise, it did look like something came out of the bored. A small, whispy, almost invisible force that flew toward Ian, pushing against his chest lightly before disappearing. Watching the video several times over, Anthony noticed to subtle changes in his friends demenor as the skit went on.

Sighing, he decided it was time to confront Ian about his behavior and ask if he'd done any last minute editing to the video on his own. Checking the time on his phone, he hoped his roommate woud be back from the hospital, assuming that's where he went anyway.

Slowly approching Ian's door, Anthony cleared his throat. "Ian? You awake?"

When he didn't recive an answer, he slowly pushed the door open. The room was cold and dark, with Ian nowhere to be found. Looking around carefully, Anthony realized he had no idea where the ouija bored was.

Just as he was stepping into the room, a cold hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around.

Ian stood there, his eyes cold. Strangely, his nose and face showed no signs of damage.

"H-hey there, buddy," Anthony stammered, not sure why he suddenly felt so scared. "You're nose looks better. Guess I didn't break it after all."

"Oh, you did. It hurt pretty bad, but I took care of it," Ian informed him, slowly pulling the door to his room closed. "What are you looking for?"

"The ouija bored we used for our last video," Anthony explained, edging carefully around his friend.

Before he could make it to the living room, Ian grabbed his arms, fingers digging painfully into Anthony's skin.

"Why?" he snarled, voice sounding strange.

"Dude, let go!"

Pushing him against the wall, Ian glared at him. "Why do you want the bored?"

"I-I'm just not sure we need it anymore," Anthony told him quickly. The look in Ian's eyes was starting to scare him more and more. "I was going to-"

"Don't worry about that," Ian snapped.

"Look, just back off, okay?" Anthony yelped, flinching as Ian's fingernails dug furrows into his arms. Yanking himself free, he started toward the living room.

Ian followed closely behind him, his body tense. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

Pulling on his shoes, Anthony tried to keep his cool as he shrugged. "I'm going to go get food."

"I'm going to get you help," he added silently, zipping up his hoodie. Before he could open the front door, a cold breeze washed over him.

"You're not going anywhere," Ian hissed.

Anthony didn't have time to answer before his friend crashed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground.

"Get off me!"

Ian yelled wordlessly as he dodged Anthony's flailing arms. Grabbing the front of his hoodie, Ian landed a solid punch before wrapping his hands around his best friends throat.

Kicking his legs fruitlessly, Anthony tried to pry at the fingers squeezing his neck. He tried to shout for help but the sound was cut off as Ian pressed his thumbs into his wind pipe.

"I told you I'd hurt you," Ian hissed, his eyes turning solid black. "You should have listened."

"Ian, ugh, stop!" Anthony gagged, barely able to get the words out. "Please!"

Tilting his head to one side, Ian smiled cruelly. "Ian's not home right now, try again later."

Anthony could feel himself growing weaker as black spots filled his vision. Just as he was sure he was about to die, the hands around his neck released. Sucking in a desperate gasp of air, he rolled onto his side coughing and choking.

Glaring down at him, Ian shook his head, eyes still solid black. "That's too easy," he grumbled. Heading back toward the bedrooms, he asked, "Where'd I leave that knife?"

Staggering to his feet, Anthony charged Ian, slamming his elbow into his back and knocking him over causing him to slam his head against the wall.

Howling in pain, Ian grabbed his head with both hands. "Ow! What the hell, man?"

Giving him a swift kick in the ribs, Anthony demanded, "Where's the fucking bored?"

Swatting at him, Ian shouted angrily, confused as to why his roommate was actually attacking him. "What are you talking about? Why are you being such a dick?"

Grabbing Ian by the front of his shirt, Anthony all but screamed in his face as he demanded, "Where's the goddamn ouija bored?!"

"Christ!" Ian shouted, still clearly confused as to what was happening. "It's under all the dirty laundry in the bathroom!"

Bolting for the bathroom as fast as he could, Anthony hoped his friend would stay sane long enough for him to find the bored and destroy it. Tossing dozens of dirty socks and shirts aside, he felt his heart skip a beat when he finally found what he was looking for.

Grabbing the ouija bored, Anthony ran to the backyard. Throwing the grill open, he tossed the cursed object onto the metal grate before looking around for the lighter fluid.

Finally finding a mostly full bottle, Anthony doused the bored with the flammable liquid. Hoping it would be enough, he grabbed a box of matches.

"Not gonna happen!"

Spinning at the sound of his roommates voice, Anthony let out a startled shout as Ian barreled into him.

Rolling around on the ground, the pair fought for the upper hand. After what felt like hours, Ian wrestled the box of matches away and leapt to his feet. Screaming, the black eyed Ian raised a knife over his head.

Realizing his best friend fully intended to stab him, Anthony did the one thing he knew would work. Cringing slighty, he mumbled, "Sorry, Ian."

Kicking out as hard as he could, Anthony swore he could feel it himself as his foot slammed directly into Ian's groin.

Eyes instantly returning to normal, the young man screamed, "Ow, my wiener!" as he dropped both the knife and the matches.

Snatching up the matches, Anthony jumped over Ian and rushed back to the grill. Pulling out three matches at once, he lit all of them with a hard swipe before throwing them at the bored.

At first, nothing happened. Anthony was starting to worry that it wouldn't work after all, but a moment later a fireball erupted in the grill.

Ian shrieked, body convulsing on the ground as the bored burned and melted, the flames changing to an odd green.

When the flames finally died down the only thing left was a pile of ashes.

Hearing a quiet groan, Anthony turned to find Ian slowly sitting up.

Blinking slowly, the young man looked around. "What the hell just happened? Why do I feel like I just got kicked in the balls?"

Biting his lip, Anthony shrugged. "No idea what that's all about. Uh, what do you remember?"

======

Several days had passed since Anthony had burned the oujia bored and everything had returned to normal. Ian wasn't able to remember anything that had happened to him in the two weeks he'd been possesed, and his friend decided not to tell him about the worst of it.

As the pair returned from going out to get pizza, Ian randomly asked, "You burned the planchette, right?"

"The what now?" Anthony asked, only half paying attention. He was already half way out of the car, pizza in hand.

"The plachette," Ian repeated. "The part of the bored you use to actually talk to the spirits. Duh."

Before Anthony could answer, the barber shop poll fell forward. The metal pole slammed into the right side head light of Ian's car, shattering the glass and bulb before sliding sideways and crashing down on Anthony's foot.

Shouting in pain, the young man dropped the pizza on the garage floor. "What the fuck, man!"

A quiet laugh could just be heard in the air as the ghost, now to weak to posses a human, continued on with its wicked ways.

Ian glared at the red and white striped tube. With venom in his words, he screamed, "Barber! Shop! Poooooooooooll!"

~END~


End file.
